Unexpected Plans
by civillove
Summary: Because out of all of the 'plan to be parent guides' not one of them had a chapter titled "If Rachel Berry is your wife, turn to page 56". AU Future fic, actually season 2 and season 3 is mentioned, it's AU in some parts of that as well—as in for example, Blaine transfers to McKinley his junior year…but it's not for Kurt.


**Title**: Unexpected Plans  
**Pairing**: blainchel  
**Summery**: Because out of all of the 'plan to be parent guides' not one of them had a chapter titled "If Rachel Berry is your wife, turn to page 56". AU Future fic, actually season 2 and season 3 is mentioned, it's AU in some parts of that as well—as in for example, Blaine transfers to McKinley his junior year…but it's not for Kurt.  
**Type: **one shot, mccall writes too much backstory…  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Author's note: For a kind anon, who requested this: **"i can so picture rachel being adorably overdramatic if she's 8 months pregnant AND sick with a head cold or something. it's just been stuck in my brain for a while and I love your writing style so. XD" I am so honored you asked me to do this, I hope you like it :)

After all this time, Blaine still managed to get caught in waves of nostalgia. It was mostly Rachel's fault—she needed no prompting when it came to reminding him of how cute he was in high school (with his matching sweaters, incredibly eccentric bowties and perhaps a bit too much gel in his hair), she just liked to make him blush. A lot. Unfortunately being flustered was something that came really easy to him and he was amazed that she could still make him feel like a blushing school boy with a crush every so often when a compliment fell from her lips.

Blaine was making pancakes one night for them after he came home from work when she did it again—it was something small and insignificant, but she was thankful that he remembered to pick up her mint tea bags on the way home because she was out. She settled against his back, the space between her and him separated ever so slightly because of her protruding eight month stomach and he felt kisses being pressed into his spine.

"I'm so glad you're my Tony." She said softly, in thanks that he didn't forget the tea bags like she probably thought he would and with that he turned around to kiss her, stroking her face with his thumb—because there had never been a moment where he regretted that she was his Maria.

Rachel was different than a lot of girls he had met and come to know over the years of his life and different wasn't necessarily a bad thing but…who seriously starts to plan the personality and looks of their (extremely talented, obviously) children after one drunken kiss in her basement? He had honestly been a little put off by her personality the first time he had gotten to know her (he didn't think one quick hello at show choir competition while dragging Kurt to backstage really counted). He remembered the dinner at Breadstix with her and Kurt, the boy insisting that Blaine meet his 'crazy but very loveable' friend Rachel. He had been a little confused because, at one point he had been pretty certain Kurt and Rachel weren't even friends…or liked each other in the slightest. They were both extremely talented, passion driven people—and more often than not that made them clash head first into one another while trying to find their places in the spotlight. For some reason time away from the New Directions group had made Kurt grow more attached (the whole absence makes the heart grow stronger routine in a nutshell) and his bond with Rachel quickly became more defined—a lifetime friendship that could last, even Blaine could see that.

He honestly hadn't expected to have anything in common with Rachel, he was going to be nice to her because it mattered to Kurt but other than that he hadn't planned with going any farther.

He hadn't planned for a lot of things to happen after that, especially when it came to her.

But weekly dinners between the three of them became daily coffee trips with him and Rachel—before or after school, it didn't matter, at one point or another during the day Blaine would meet Rachel at the Lima Bean, order the same medium drip and sit at the exact same table, by the window because it was Rachel's favorite spot. In a lot of ways, Kurt and Rachel were very different from one another—while he and Kurt always found a topic of interest that they shared, could talk about, it tended to always center around fashion, or design, or who was wearing the wrong pair of shoes on those reality TV shows that focused on a lot of sequin. Kurt was gay and Blaine had never been happier that he had discovered who he was and was comfortable within his own skin.

But Blaine didn't know. He may have seemed confident on the outside with bright smiles and advice for other people flowing easily from his mouth when asked but…he had always had the feeling like he didn't know where he was going. He didn't know what he was doing. He just didn't _know_. And he could tell Kurt didn't like that he was unsure, that he was still searching—that it made him antsy and impatient and anxious and a bunch of other things that Blaine hadn't meant to cause. Because what were they _really_ doing with the late night phone calls, continuous texts and seeing each other every day with smiles and cute comments and flirty innuendo statements?

Kurt made him feel pressured—like he had to decide who he wanted to be for the rest of his life in that very moment between a bite of his biscotti and a sip of his medium drip. He may not have said it in so many words, but Blaine could _feel_ it, could see it in his eyes if Blaine's glance ever wandered to a pretty girl or if he gave Rachel a compliment out of nowhere for no reason.

Rachel had made him feel different.

They had talked about everything—from football (and how Rachel didn't really understand all the plays), to plans for the future (which of course included New York for her), to the everlasting ridiculous debate on whether cats or dogs were better, to show choir and solos, relationships or lack thereof and whether winter or fall was more ideal for wearing sweaters to sit outside and enjoy hot cups of coffee with warm embraces (Blaine _was_ right with Fall). He didn't feel burdened—loaded invisible weights pounded and stacked on top of his shoulders telling and insisting he pick a side instead of just trying to _be_.

Coffee dates had turned into real dates.

The transition in their relationship had been so slow and gradual that he hadn't expected himself to say yes when she had asked to go on a date. In all honestly, he hadn't really expected to talk to her for a while after that drunken kiss in her basement (well, according to Kurt it hadn't been just _one_ kiss)—embarrassment had soaked his cheeks in blush the morning after he had woken up in Kurt's bed, disoriented and sick to his stomach. The first kiss had been intentional, the joys of spin the bottle and too much alcohol, but pulling her onto one of the couches to straddle his legs and lean in closer and closer until he wasn't sure if her tongue was in his mouth or his was in hers was a completely different story. Blaine didn't remember a lot from that night, time between then and now blurring the edges considerably, but if anything he still could taste the alcohol on her tongue and the sweetness of her strawberry lip gloss—could feel the heat of her body on his lap and the frantic grabs of her fingers wrapping around his maroon cardigan.

It was one of the reasons he agreed on one date—their sheer connectivity to each other wasn't something he could just ignore. Too many coffee dates filled with giggles and hand holding, big smiles and breaths of relief with the absence of that weight on his chest for him to think any differently. Another reason was far too selfish on his part, at that point in his friendship with Kurt he had just had enough with the looks of doubt and pity and didhereally feel _sorry_ for him that he was just trying to work out his feelings? Kurt had told him that being bi was essentially ridiculous, that he was just trying to step back into a closet to match society's standards and Blaine had managed to leave without spilling his coffee on the other boy's lap and texting Rachel that she could pick the place that they went to dinner.

And while the very first night had been wonderful, he didn't really count it in terms of a date—because everything had been awkward, between their drunken make out sessions at her house still hanging like a smog around them and Blaine's fight with Kurt, both of them had been far too distracted to make the night into something promising. And to be honest, Blaine had felt like giving up after that. The date had been nice—but there had been no sparks, nothing that had reminded him of the heated kisses and touches shared between them in her house. They got along great, they could talk about anything to each other—he knew for a fact that Rachel would bend over backwards to be there for him and she knew he would do the same for her in a heartbeat. But maybe that was all that they were, really best friends but nothing else. No underlying heat to cause a fire.

Until they had met in the Lima Bean the next day for their scheduled meeting of too much caffeine and she had kissed him—right out of the blue, right between the counter of sugar and coffee straws and a line of mugs for sale. He had turned to ask her if she wanted cinnamon for her tea and she had raised up on her toes and planted her lips on his—the kiss slow, soft, deliberate. It wasn't heated, it wasn't messy with wandering hands that wanted to grab and knead skin, their tongues didn't taste each other, there wasn't a series of moans or whimpered pleas for more. It was simple…but when he had pulled back from her, the heat he had been looking for since that night was still there, buried under his skin and seeping out of his pores, engraved in his veins and rushing through his system to make blush appear on his cheeks and the back of his neck.

That was when Blaine knew that one date would turn into two, and two would turn into four—and while math had never really been his strong suit, he understood that a total of twenty four dates between the two of them over time was a lot more than Blaine had planned to start out with.

He had always been a planner. He liked knowing when things were going to happen and being prepared for them; he made lists (and he always found a smile tug on his lips when he realized Rachel made them too) to keep track of what he needed to do and when. His friends called him out on being a bit uptight—but he just liked being organized. And dating Rachel had been something that years of list making had never prepared him for.

Even now, after so much time passing between him transferring to McKinley to be with her, working through hectic work schedules and college to kiss her let alone spend time to be her boyfriend, between fights and near breakups, through failed auditions and getting an apartment that actually had a working heating system—she was still rewriting all the directed plans he thought he had set in stone. It was one of the many things he loved about her, as cliché as it sounded, she was always surprising him.

But he never would have expected her to say to him one summer morning between waffles and shower sex was 'surprise! We're having a baby'. Yeah, he definitely hadn't planned on that one yet.

It wasn't that Blaine didn't want children. He actually _really_ did—especially with Rachel. After all, they'd be extremely talented (and probably kinda short) beautiful kids, wouldn't they? Every time he saw Cooper for Christmas and played with his little girl, Julie was growing up far too fast for his liking, he would always tell the younger Anderson how great of a father he would be. Rachel would always smile at him—this kind of knowing smile that told him she agreed, which made the tips of his ears go red.

It was just—it felt far too soon, they had only been married for five months, engaged a lot longer than that, they had only recently found a decent place—a nice apartment with big rooms and near each other's places of work with an actual functioning furnace and walls that were thicker than sheets of paper—at least the neighbors hadn't heard how the damn baby had been _conceived_. But after Rachel had told him and he had spent a decent amount of time freaking out, he fell into a slow pattern between being calm and worried before acceptance finally settled in.

They were going to have a baby. And that was a plan neither of them could really prepare for.

All the soon to be parent books that he had managed to breeze through on a Sunday afternoon with a football game on in the background (ideal time to read those damn things if anyone asked him) hadn't really prepared him like they thought they would. Because out of all of the 'plan to be parent guides' not one of them had a chapter titled "If Rachel Berry is your wife, turn to page 56". And he figured, maybe, that was really the problem. He was just looking for some sort of guidance or direction—which seemed a bit too late, seeing as how she was eight months pregnant and their little girl was gracing them with her presence in less than a month.

Rachel was passionate and hardworking, extremely dedicated and determined. And although all those qualities had really made him fall in love with her in the first place, they could equally be the worst things about her if she got so caught up in what she was destined to do to remember that she was in fact pregnant and that she needed to take care of herself. She had been devastated when she realized she had to stop practicing for her role in _Wicked_, which broke his heart because, ironically, she had managed to land a major part in her favorite musical and now she couldn't even perform in it because of her pregnancy.

Blaine knew it was going to be hard for her, to go from working nonstop at her dream to sitting at home on the couch to nurse a cup of cold mint tea. But she had to do it—there was really no ands or buts about it. She had to take care of herself for the health of their baby—

And while other women may have nodded, rolled their eyes at the doctor scolding them for doing a little housework when they should have been resting, he should have suspected that Rachel would be different. Because she was, after all, special.

And stubborn.

And an incredible pain in his ass on her best days.

She told him she hadn't been feeling well after dinner—which was expected, she had terrible morning sickness in the middle of the night and it was often more hard than not to keep anything down after they ate dinner. He had told her to go straight to bed and that he'd worry about cleaning up…and that had worked for a solid two hours before Rachel came into the living room, sniffling harshly as she cried that she couldn't breathe through her nose.

No, God, nothiswasnothappening. His mouth fell open as she plopped down onto the couch, pulling at the sleeve of his sweater before burying her face in his shoulder. He felt a sigh tumble from his lips before he shook his head—

Blaine had known that this was, unfortunately, inevitable.

The first time he had told her to take it easy it had been a joke—that if she kept moving at warped speed throughout the house, carrying out useless after pointless chore that he could have easily done for her he was going to start putting up signs with speed limits on them for her to follow.

The second time there had been no hint of teasing—he had taken the grocery bags from her, at least five of them in each hand filled up to the brim with the contents of the grocery list that had been on the fridge for a week. Blaine had told her that he could have easily picked up what they had needed on the way home from work and that she was supposed to stay home and rest. R E S T. Rest. He had literally spelled it to her—that had earned him a night out on the couch.

By the third time he had been just plain annoyed. And regardless that he was usually very careful with how he acted around her—her hormones driving her from one personality to the next in point five seconds (she'd literally go from wanting to have sex with him, to crying, to craving ice cream, to ranting and raving that he didn't change the batteries in the remote to snuggling up against him on the couch, her fingers wrapping around the curls in his hair, kissing his neck and muttering his name in the cutest goddamn voice he had ever heard). Whiplash. She was givinghimwhiplash.

He hadn't been able to control his irritation and he made the mistake of asking her how in the hell they were going to have this baby if she didn't slow the fuck down and take care of herself. He couldn't remember if the word 'selfish' had left his lips because she had thrown a bag of baby carrots at his head and stalked off in the Rachel Berry fashion he knew she could still accomplish even though she was eight months pregnant.

Blaine shifted back onto the couch, gently lifting his wife from her spot on his chest. He curled her hair around her ears and gave her a small, warm smile before tugging her to sit on his lap. He wanted to take her temperature; she was trembling against him but her skin felt hot to the touch. He leaned up a bit and pressed a long kiss to her forehead, feeling her fingers curl around the gray sweater he had on.

"I think you have a fever." He murmured against her skin, shaking his head because he was almost angry at himself for letting her get herself sick. He knew he couldn't really control that sort of thing but…he felt responsible. They were supposed to be keeping her healthy and he had let her try to work around the house on too many choirs—he should have tried to force bed rest on her even though she would've been pissed off at him.

"I told you that you should have been taking it easy, Rachel." He said softly, getting ready to anticipate some sort of physical blow. She sure could pack a punch for a tiny little thing.

"Oh right," She whined, pushing herself up and off of him. She leaned back against the couch and grabbed a tissue. He watched her nose crinkle like she was going to sneeze but it never came. "Rub it in that you were right when I'm basically _dying_."

He rolled his eyes. "You are not dying." She always had a flare for the theatrics—their daughter would, no doubt, be just as dramatic. Probably even more so with parents like them. "You have a cold Rachel and a fever, most likely."

To be honest, it didn't really matter what she had in terms of how Blaine fit into all of this—she was extremely dramatic as it was. But when she was sick he wanted to crawl in-between the cushions of the couch and hide there with the dust bunnies. Because those were friendlier than Rachel with the sniffles. Add that on top of her eight month crazy hormone driven pregnancy and one had a recipe for disaster—but the only causality was going to be Blaine.

"Let me get the thermometer." He went to get up and look for it in one of their bedside table drawers but Rachel wrapped her fingers around his arm, shaking her head, her fingernails digging into his bicep. He looked down at her and kissed the bridge of her nose. "I'll be right back."

Part one of Rachel Berry the horror movie—alright, maybe that was a bit cruel (he _did_ love her after all) _Stage 1 of the Rachel Berry sickness guide_: Clingyness

Rachel sniffled and pulled away, but just to sneeze, and then she wrapped around his one arm again, pushing her face into his shoulder. He stroked her back and bit his lip—this wasn't like all the other times before this when she had gotten sick, he couldn't just carry her with him…or carry her to bed for that matter. Rachel was tiny, he'd give her that, and she was one of the lucky women who had just gained weight in her stomach from being pregnant, but he couldn't safety lift her in his arms to take her anywhere.

"I have to take your temperature baby." He cooed softly, his lips dipping into her hair. He wanted to make sure it wasn't too high because that meant something worse might have been going on other than a cold.

When she finally let him up, it had literally taken ten minutes to pry her off of him; he went into their bedroom and took the thermometer out of the bedside table. He grabbed a thick blanket off their bed and came back into the living room. Rachel was sitting against the corner of the couch, coughing into her arm until her cheeks were red from effort. He sat down next to her and rubbed her back, trying to calm her down enough to breathe in-between coughs.

"Oh God, you need—" Another bout of coughs interrupted her and Blaine winced softly as they sounded rough and choked, her voice raspy when she spoke again. "You need to go to the pharmacy and get me some medicine. If this is a chest cold I could get bronchitis."

Blaine glanced at the time, it was going on ten o'clock, there wouldn't be any pharmacies open close enough for him to go to. And he didn't want to leave her home alone, pregnant and sick. Of course…he couldn't exactly tell her that. Not unless he wanted their couch stained with his blood.

He cleared his throat and tried to take her temperature, satisfied that when it beeped the degrees was showing a ninety-nine. A little high but not in the hundreds, he would just have to keep checking to make sure it didn't go up anymore.

"I will go get you something first thing tomorrow morning—"

"No!" Her voice raised, her fingers curling around his sweater again. "Go _now_, I need it." Her voice was slightly whining at the end of her sentence and it almost convinced him to drive to whatever damn pharmacy she wanted. Almost.

He stared at her for a long moment, his frustration starting to peak as he took in one calming breath. He loved her, literally so damn much (Tony to Maria and any other cheesy soul mate line you want to think of) but sometimes she gave him the urge to pull his damn hair out.

"I can't go now—" He tried but she was already up and off the couch. She nearly gave him a heart attack because she wavered slightly, probably dizzy from getting up so fast and sometimes he was pretty sure she wasn't used to the added weight around her stomach and it threw her off balance.

"What are you doing?" He got up off the couch and followed her as she tried to walk away with some dignity and a hell of a lot of sass (that she surely must have gotten from spending so much time with him) but the desired effect was lost as she sort of wobbled like a penguin.

"Fine, if you don't _want_ to go I'll go myself!" She basically screamed through the apartment, heading to their bedroom to put shoes on.

Blaine groaned and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as he took in a short breath.

_Stage 2 of the Rachel Berry sickness guide_: A wonderful combo of anger and frustration

"It's not that I don't want to go!" He opened his eyes as he heard her come back into the living room, shoes now on her feet. "I'm not letting you out of this apartment."

"Oh, so now I'm on house arrest!" She screamed and it wasn't posed as a question.

He glared at her. "Is that what you really think I'm doing?" He was almost offended. "I'm trying to keep you from getting sicker than you are now; going out in the frigid cold to wander around for a pharmacy that's open at this time of night is _pointless_."

"You're the worst." She muttered under her breath and honestly that comment didn't hurt him much because he knew she didn't mean it—that she didn't mean anything that was directed at him right now. But irritation was pinching at his patience and he tried not to yell at her as she tried, once again, to walk to the front door.

"We wouldn't even be in this situation if you would have just _listened_ to me in the first place."

He could see the exasperation build up in her eyes; her breathing was getting slightly labored as she stood there with her hands on her hips, looking at the front door like it held her salvation of an open pharmacy right behind it. Her hands balled into fists and she stomped her foot (ever so mature) and rounded him to sit back down on the couch. He sighed softly and ran a hand over his face, going into the kitchen to put a kettle on for tea. After setting down a mug near the sink and putting a tea bag in it he slowly walked back into the living room, kneeling in front of her when he saw that her eyes were filled with tears and that she was trying hard not to cry.

"I can't go now," He said again, trying to smooth this over. "I don't want to leave you alone and I think all the pharmacies are closed by now." His voice was soft and calm, no hint of the previous aggravation that he'd been feeling.

"Then go find one that is open Blaine!" She insisted, her voice quavering as she said his name. It damn near broke his heart to see her get so upset, something tugging hard in his chest as her lower lip wobbled and as her hand tugged pathetically on his forearm.

_Stage 3 of the Rachel Berry sickness guide_: Crying

The anger was gone now and her lower lip started wobbling as she sniffled, running the back of her wrist over her red tipped nose. Blaine stood up and sat down on the couch next to her, opening the blanket up to wrap around her shoulders. He brought her into his chest, big fat tears starting to leak from her eyes and down her flushed cheeks as she leaned against him as best as she could. The only thing he hated about her being pregnant was that he could never seem to draw her close enough to him—she was never close enough unless they were spooning. He could only pull her so close with their daughter in-between them—but every time he'd wrap his arms around her and felt her stomach gently bump against his, it'd make him smile. And he'd lean down and kiss her stomach before kissing her lips.

Which he planned on doing as soon as he got her to stop crying.

"Shh," He said gently, rubbing her shoulders and rocking her slightly. "Please don't cry, okay? Please?" He brushed his lips over her forehead. "Some tea with honey should help."

"If I get bronchitis my voice could suffer in the long run, our…our baby, what if—" She let out a sob into his neck, clutching to his shirt as she couldn't even finish her sentence.

He stroked her back and shook his head. "Rachel, please try and calm down. None of this is good for our little girl," He hummed, running his fingers through her hair to try and soothe her. "All this stress isn't going to help; our baby will be _fine_. I promise I will go and get you your medicine first thing tomorrow morning." He licked his lips.

Rachel's crying eventually slowed, her lip jutting out in the slightest when she pulled back from him. He reached across the couch for a few tissues on the side table and handed them to her, kissing her forehead to check her temperature again. She still felt rather warm but not any hotter than before so he was satisfied.

"I'm sorry," She muttered, her lower lip wobbling softly as she rested her forehead against his. She turned her head and coughed before Blaine patted her back. "I'm like a…Rachel Berry monster."

Blaine chuckled and shook his head, curling her hair around her ear before glancing towards the kitchen as the kettle started to boil and whistle loudly. He gently set her aside and stood up, taking her hand and leading her into the kitchen with him. He sniffed and poured the water into her mug, tightening the blanket around her shoulders as she sat up one of the stools with his help at the island counter. He set the mug down in front of her and took a seat next to her, running his hand down her back.

"You're not a monster." He told her gently. "You're…kind of crazy right now," He chuckled as she shot him a glare. "But," He leaned closer and pressed a kiss to the side of her mouth. "You're not a monster."

Blaine sighed as she turned her head, pushing her face into his shoulder. Her fingers laced with his before she placed some kisses along his neck in a long line—running her nose along a speckle of freckles near his Adam's apple.

"I'm hungry." She said softly, looking up at him with wide brown eyes that he could never say no to it seemed.

He felt a laugh escaped his chest, stroking her hair before he nodded. "Yeah, no problem Rach. I'll make you some soup."

_Stage 4 of the Rachel Berry sickness guide_: Hunger

After Blaine had made her soup and she had ate it with little to no complaining about the steam making her nose run, he cleaned up the kitchen and took her hand to lead her to the bedroom, helping her find a comfortable position in bed before retrieving her cup of tea from the kitchen. He shut off all the lights and joined her in bed a moment later, setting the mug down on the bedside table. He pulled her into his chest, her back molding into his body. He settled one of her pillows between her legs and rubbed her thigh before pulling blankets over them both. She sniffled, coughing into her arm and having to sit up a bit before moaning miserably and leaning back into bed.

Blaine rubbed her arm, brushing her bangs away from her eyes as he rested his lips against the back of her head.

"I'm going to get you sick." She rasped out, turning her head a bit to look at him.

He kissed her, cupping her face and running his thumb over her jaw line before pulling back. "I don't care." He said softly.

Rachel smiled and shook her head. "You say that now…but I'm the one who's going to have to deal with a miserable sneezy Blaine."

Blaine smiled softly and shook his head, tickling her side lightly and making her giggle—if only she was aware of the whirlwind of a cycle that she had put him through in the past damn hour and a half. He didn't say that though and just kissed her upper lip.

"I'm adorable, sick or not." He insisted.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh right, I guess you're kinda cute." Rachel hummed, leaning up to push her lips against his in a nice slow kiss.

Blaine smiled against her lips, running his thumb under her chin. "Was cute enough to marry." He countered, his voice having a singing tone quality to it. "And to have a baby with." He whispered, teeth tugging her lower lip a bit before running his nose over hers.

Rachel cupped the back of his neck, drawing him as close as she could to keep kissing him but eventually had to pull back because she couldn't breathe through her nose. He kissed her nose before she sat up to blow, wiping her nose with a tissue before throwing it in the direction of the trash can near the dresser.

"You should get some rest," Blaine said quietly. "I know you hate when I say it but you'll feel a lot better after some sleep."

His hand gently massaged her scalp as she rested her head down on the pillow again, snuggling back into his body before managing a small nod. He put his arm around her stomach, leaning down to kiss the side of the mound, chuckling a little when he felt the little one inside kick up against him.

"Tell your daughter to stop kicking if she wants mommy to get any sleep." She muttered, half awake as it was. She was tired and luckily she was drifting fast.

He hummed and pressed another kiss to Rachel's stomach. "Estrella," He murmured. "You need to let mommy sleep."

Rachel's eyebrows crinkled. "Estrella?" She asked.

He nodded and smiled into the crook of her neck as he shifted up in bed. "It means 'star' in Spanish. I think it's pretty…and very appropriate. We can call her Ella for short."

She smiled widely even though there were tinges of sleepiness lacing around her words as she spoke. "I love it." She bit her lip and cupped his face, tracing her thumb over his lower lip. "I love _you_."

Blaine leaned down and kissed her forehead, the bridge of her nose, her upper lip and then her lower one before giving her a full and proper kiss, shivering when her fingernails scraped the back of his neck and ran through the nape of his hair.

"I love you too." He said, stroking her stomach.

He put the TV on low so that he could watch something while Rachel drifted into sleep, occasionally murmuring something as she slept about pancakes, oddly enough. But nothing warmed his heart more than hearing his own name flutter from her lips, a sign of utter contentment and feeling safe. He held her close as he slowly stroked her stomach and pressed kisses in her hair, relaxing again since the first time she had wandered into the living room with a harsh cough.

_Stage 5 of the Rachel Berry sickness guide_: Acceptance, also known as: Blaine's sanity is restored.

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Hope you enjoyed :) I know the pronunciation of 'estrella' is very different because of the two l's in Spanish. But I pronounced it like Ella at the end, instead. Sue me I'm sorry. Lkdjflkdsjf thanks for reading.


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